Page 12 of Tell Me You Love Me

“What?” I skid to a stop and glance back at the dozen almost-fifth-graders surrounding me. It’s like I’m a fuckin’ Wiggle, and they’re my little fans. “Eliza is taking?—”

“Eliza isn’t in today, and you’d know that if you attended literallyanystaff meeting. Or read your emails. Or checked your texts. Or,” he strides out of the room, then back again, clutching a yellow sticky note that says, ‘ELIZA IS OUT!’ “Ya know, paid attention to anything except your own reflection in the mirror. It was annoying in high school. It’s worse now.”

“You’re being hurtful today.”

“That’s what I said,” Oliver rumbles, still on his back in the cage. “Bad attitude. Hurts feelings.”

“You’re a little dysregulated,” Ipsycho-babble, my smile growing wider with every shade Chris’ eyes darken. “It’s the weekend. It’s summer break. Take a breath and just…” I toss another child his way. “Relax.”

“You’re running the kid class, then you’re cooking dinner. I want steak and fries, and you better have it done before eight o’clock.” He spins on his heels and stalks into the cage, scaring Ollie to his feet until they’re facing each other.

Poor, poor guy. He’s about to get his ass whooped.

“Can we do the frog jumps again today?” Molly grabs my arm, monkey-climbing until she reaches my shoulder, only to slide down again because her tree is sweaty. “Plllleeeeeeease?”

“You like the frog jumps?” I shake her off and spin to hide behind another kid, then another, when she tries to chase me. “What if we do round-robin sparring? But you’re in the middle and get beat up by everyone else. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“No!” She darts between her peers and punches my hip. Which, Isuppose, is meant to be atag. I’m it. “Plus, my dad said to tell you to stop teasing me anymore.”

“Your dad doesn’t scare me.” I twist out of her grasp, circling behind another kid. “Your daddy and I went to school together, and he wet his pants right in front of me once.”

“Ew!” A dozen kids chime in at once, laughing and holding their crotches.

“You tell your daddy to come fight me.” I bend at the hips and show the girl my warrior face… ish. “You tell him the champ challenges him to a round in the octagon.”

“My dad says you were always the champ,” Jeremy—seven, to Molly’s nine—pipes in. “But he says you’re ergant about it.”

Ergant?“Billy Caster said I wasarrogant? Boy, Billy Caster ran face-first into a light pole in front of our whole grade one time! Billy Caster doesn’t have the brain cells to know what that word means.”

“Hey! Stupid?” Chris rattles the cage door, then he tilts his head to the side. Right where Billy Caster’s beady eyes burn into mine. And beside him, Molly’s dad folds his arms. In fact, a whole fuckin’ platoon of eavesdropping parents who all attended the same schools I did, right around the same time I did, watch on with mean-mugging scowls on their faces. “You really think this is how to run a business?”

I wave to the group of parents, only to switch five fingers for a single, middle finger when their kids spin. Then I wink at Molly’s unimpressed mom and back up to snag a shirt from the corner of the room.Suppose I should get dressed while rolling with minors.“Alright, fine,” I announce, dragging the dry fabric over my wet skin. “Baby karatekas, line up in order of shortest to tallest. Doesn’t matter if you’re five-years-old, or ten, I want the tallies over here,” I point to my left, “and the shorties over there.” I point to my right.

Eager, they run in circles and lose all semblance of organization, exactly like I knew they would. So I clap my hands and use my commanding voice. “I said, tall to my left.” I grab Molly and toss her to the right. “Shorties over there. Who remembers what you did during your last class?”

Jeremy’s arm shoots high over his head. His dad is a cop; it doesn’t surprise me the kid is a goodie-goodie question answerer. “We worked on our kata!”

“And takedowns!” Molly inserts.

“Which takedowns?” I grab another kid andyeethim to the left. Then another, directing her to the right. “Can anyone remember the name?”

“It was the one where we do, like…” Jeremy grabs a classmate and tosses that little sucker over his shoulder with a ferociousness that’s gonna get my ass sued. But the kid bounces like he’s made of rubber, bounding back to his feet with a megawatt grin plastered across his face.

“Right.” I brush a hand over my mouth, if only to hide my smile. Then I walk down the middle of my groups to find one last kid. He lands right in the middle of short and tall. But most interesting of all is the fact I don’t know him.

In this town… that’s damn near impossible.

“What’s your name?” I turn and take a dozen hula hoops from the wall, tossing them to the floor to create an obstacle course. But when the kid doesn’t answer by the time I’m done placing them, I come back with a frown and study him again. More thoughtfully this time. Iactuallylook at him, his trembling jaw and shimmering eyes hidden behind thick glasses.

He’s no loud-mouth Molly or people-pleasing Jeremy. He’s quiet. Shy. Terrified, even, as I crouch and search his misty stare. Lowering my voice, so it’s just for me and him, I try again. “My name is Tommy. Do you wanna tell me yours?”

He merely stares, his cheeks flaming red. But I know these types. Jesus, I’ve lived with one my whole life, so I drop my gaze and try a new approach. “That’s cool. You don’t have to tell me. You’re here for classes, huh?”

In my peripherals, he nods.

“But you don’t really want to be here, do you?”

Again, I see the movement of his head shaking from side to side.

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